


your grasp is frail (but you catch the light)

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Beach Divorce (X-Men), Canon Disabled Character, F/F, Female Charles Xavier, Female Erik Lehnsherr, Fix-It, Genderswap, Kissing, M/M, Romance, U-Haul Lesbians Save the Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: Maybe Charlotte and Erika would have made it off that beach together the way Charles and Erik never could.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this art by hackedmotionsensors.](http://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com/post/133251626094/picking-up-your-tiny-psychic-girlfriend-and-flying)  
> Title from ["Sea Violet" by HD.](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/sea-violet)
> 
> Part of my attempt to transfer all my old bits of fic over from my tumblrs and Google Drive to AO3.

“I tried to warn you, Charlotte,” Erika murmurs, tears threatening at her long lashes. “We’re meant to be side by side, not fighting each other like this. We’re soulmates. We want the same thing.”

Charlotte draws a pained breath and reaches up to touch the curve of her cheek under the helmet. “I’m–I’m not certain we do,” she says weakly. “Take it off, please–” Her fingers fumble with the hard edge.

Pulling it off hurriedly with one hand, she casts it aside on the sand without another thought and weaves their fingers together. “What about our future, Charlie?” Her voice is soft and intimate, would be sending shivers down her spine in any other context. “Or was that all pillow-talk?”

Charlotte, despite herself, manages a scandalized huff of laughter. Regretting it, she screws her eyes shut against the wave of fresh agony. “ _Not in front of the kids,_ Erika,” she manages.

“I want to hear you tell me that for the rest of our lives.” This is the closest to begging proud, proud Erika will ever come, sharp green eyes softened by imploring.

Erika has killed Shaw. 

But all their arguing the days before had been in circles, and Charlotte has known all along the choice she would make. And she stood behind her and held him still. 

Erika thinks she is a monster. Charlotte pushing her away would only solidify that belief. 

But she has felt her her body against hers and her heart under her hand night after night. She has curled her gift into her shining mind. Charlotte knows better.

She could forgive her worse than this. She just has to give herself the chance.

Charlotte turns her hand over and kisses the tips of her slim fingers, eyes closed against the pain in her back. Then she nods.

 

“A trip down memory lane, I take it?” Charlotte bites her lower lip in pleasure at the sight of Erika’s strong, scarred back as she zips up the navy-and-yellow suit inch by inch. Wheeling into the the storage room at the back of the lab, she carefully keeps her chair clear of any of the precarious piles of boxes.

“McCoy wants us to model the prototypes so she can make a modified version,” Erika explains, turning around to face Charlotte.

Charlotte’s heart freezes when she sees what’s in her hands. 

That damned helmet. 

If it had been up to Charlotte entirely, Erika would have melted it and left the impotent metal behind them on the beach. But her life since Erika has been a series of compromises, some harder to bear than others. 

“This may be a few steps too far down memory lane, my friend,” she says weakly, holding out her hand for it.

Erika crooks her finger, floating Charlotte’s uniform out of the box by the buckles. “Your turn.” 

Worry buzzes under her ribs when Erika does not hand the helmet to her. Looking away, she wrestles herself into the old uniform, fighting down the instinctive humiliation she feels as Erika's gaze lingers. Sometimes, she still makes her turn around when she struggles out of her pantyhose or the shoes with the complicated laces. 

“Happy?” She yelps when she’s suddenly dragged forward and clutches the wheelchair handles until Erika distracts her with a kiss.

Tugging on all the convenient metal again, Erika draws her out of the chair, into her arms, and up, up, up. “I told you I’d been practicing,” Erika says, smug, when Charlotte pushes her pride into her mind.

“I know. You’re better every day.” Kissing her again, Charlotte plucks the helmet from her hand and drops it to the ground behind them so they fly free at last.


End file.
